Laconic
by Nikkel
Summary: PostEnd. Though Vincent has discovered his true identity, Real is not quite certain of that, or certain of herself now that Romdeau has collapsed. Her thoughts, and others. Oneshot.


**Disclaimer:**_I do not own Vincent/Ergo, Real, Kristeva, Monad, or any other characters mentioned._

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Laconic  
**_By Nikkel  
_(c) to Geneon Entertainment

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The wind is cold, nearly snowing, but not quite. Tiny, icy shards, soft as they melt against skin. It's because of the sun, peeking through the clouds, at long last. A real sun, a true light. Not something artificial, man-made; purely cosmic and natural. Like life.

A part of me had always thought I would die alone. Most likely with a bullet in my head—my own doing. Driven without a purpose, without a reason—it wouldn't matter if I was the Regent's granddaughter or not. The old man would have never given up his seat. He had barely been alive, merely serving as a face for the people of Romdeau, denying them truth. What use would I have ever been on that throne? It would have only pushed my suicide further. How pointless and pathetic is that?

Yet, I'm not dead, nor dying. Just living, the wind cold against my face, seeping through my coat; not tired, not hungry, not sick. But I remember the feeling of death, the end—I surely thought it was the end for me when I had been dangling on that pole. I had been hanging by a silver thread. Kristeva bandaged by hand for me, but the pain is still there. The feeling of death in the palm of my hand. What if Pino had not been there to catch me? I would have died. I am mortal.

But he is not. Vincent... Ergo... dammit, I don't even know what to call him anymore. He looks like Vincent, but the expression on his face (if an expression at all) is entirely Ergo. And though they appear different, I know they are the same man. My heart beats for them both, bleeds for them both, and I don't even understand _how_. And to think, that he would have chosen me, over his true and immortal love of Monad. Because I remind him of who he really is, who Vincent Law is. What if I had been to die? Would he still have left Monad's side?

I can't live forever, but he can. And yet he still chose me. But why? I'll die eventually. The Creators are returning, the sun is coming out, and still we're fighting a war for the the truth, the reason. I know that fighting them is his reason d'etre, and that he could physically survive without me... but he would be in so much despair. Would more destruction become of that?

"Real," he calls me with that Vincent face. I look away. He hands the helm to Kristeva and walks over to me. "Are you okay?"

I've realized that I'm crying. Ha, just like so many other realizations in this damn universe. I wipe the tears away with my sleeve.

"I'm fine," I tell him. He doesn't move, just stares at me with those eyes—electric and green; the sign of life. What an oxymoron for the agent of death—searching for me. Always searching for me, looking for me in my own labyrinth. Then his arms are around me, holding me, my face in the orange fabric of his clothes. I don't move. When I lay my head on his chest I can hear his heart, his pulse. Always beating, always living.

"Vincent." I pull away from him. I can bear to look at him, touch him. "If there's one thing you could do for me could you at least tell me why?"

"Why?" He blinks, not understanding. I snatch him by the collar.

"_Why_?!" I cry out. "Tell me _why _you chose me, why _I _was chosen! I'm mortal, I can die, don't you understand that?! What will you do when I'm not here, when you regret?!"

"What? Real, why would you say such a thing? That's... that's terrible," he says slowly, nervously, a bead of sweat dripping down his face. "I... I love you."

"And what makes you think that is enough?!"

"Um... well, what more is there?"

"I'm asking you what you will do when I _die_."

His breath is warm against my cheek, sharp and frightened, his eyes wide. They're so wide I swear I can see the glow of the Proxy behind them, watching us, watching me. I let go as he falls quiet, glaring hard at him, demanding an answer. I have to know, it's driving me insane not to know. The wind howls around, emphasizing his silence, my anger. My ears freeze over. He then looks at me carefully, emerald eyes shining.

"I'll... I'll die."

That isn't something I wanted to hear, and he knows it. I wince. "You can't die."

"Real... then, what do you expect me to do?"

"That's what I'm asking you..." I feel another tear slide down my cheek—it's like an icy raindrop. I hastily wipe it away and lean against the railing. The wind blows against my so my hair is in my face, and I wonder if he can still see me. I don't want him to. "You could have been with Monad forever. You must have some rational reason for—"

He stands in front of me, the words choking in my throat. His hands fall on my wrists, pulling me towards him, and yet he leans against me. I stare.

"I don't have a reason," he admits, looking away for only a moment, biting his lip. Then he looks back. "It's just... you've taught me a lot. Taught Ergo a lot... and Monad..."

He looks up at the sky, the brilliant shining sky, the part in the clouds that's white and blinding. The sun.

"If I had gone with her, I don't think I would be here now. Could you survive without me?"

_...Could I?_

"I don't know what would happen to me when you die," he continues, and loosens his grip, but pulls me closer again. "I just want to be here, be here now, with you. You're all I have. Real. And when you die... I'll fly."

His hold is strong, certain. It's a promise he will never break.

This is the true man, Vincent Law, that loves me. And Ergo Proxy... has accepted his fate. They are both one of the same, two sides to a single coin, both of them holding me to them, protecting me. What Ergo sees in me is Monad, Monad's face, yet I am not Monad at all. I am Real, Real Mayer... and Vincent is the man I love.

We would die together.

And I was content with that.


End file.
